


The Change

by olosta



Series: First Times [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Confident Katsuki Yuuri, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hot Springs & Onsen, Humor, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:32:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olosta/pseuds/olosta
Summary: Ever since Moscow, things have changed a little with Yuuri. Victor doesn't protest. If Yuuri wantsto race things up, who is he to complain?





	The Change

**Author's Note:**

> betaed by the amazing [Saniika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saniika/pseuds/Saniika) <3
> 
> this piece has also an [illustration](http://dreamaginarium.tumblr.com/post/178863859806/show-chapter-archive) (thoug my drawing skills are rusty, so pardon me)

Victor relaxes with his eyes closed against the warm rock behind, but he opens them when he hears the silent splash of Yuuri stepping into the steaming water. Yuuri was usually faster washing up than Victor before they went into the onsen, keeping his movements efficient, quick, barely letting Victor to see his naked body. But today was different. Something has changed since Moscow.

Yuuri stops with water barely up to his knees and reaches up to push back his quickly dampening hair with both of his hands – as if deliberately showing off his body to Victor, thinks the Russian – wouldn't he know better. Nevertheless, Victor does take a long, throughout look.

It is nothing he hasn't glimpsed before; they shared the onsen regularly, and Victor had been in the room at more than one occasion when Yuuri had changed into his dancer belt before competitions. Yuuri has no problem with casual nudity, since the very the beginning when they didn't know each other and his body still had a curve or two too many for a top athlete (and Victor found him delectable then as well). Right now, there isn't an extra ounce on him, every muscle toned and defined against his frame, the veins on his forearms in a stark relief under the skin. Victor feels warmth that has nothing to do with the hot water spreading from the depth of his belly upwards to his chest... and south. Suddenly, he is very glad of the slight murkiness of the water.

Yuuri lets his arms fall to his hips and stands still for a while, looking straight at Victor. Victor gulps, his heart skipping a beat. Then Yuuri moves; he wades through the shallow water towards him. More than once Victor has to force himself to look away from the place his gaze is drawn to: to Yuuri's core, to those powerful thighs with lithe muscles playing under his skin as he walks, and to the dark shadow of his pubic hair with his member gently swaying in the rhythm of his steps. Yuuri must have noticed the direction of his look; even without glasses, Victor is close enough for Yuuri to see that. But his face doesn't let on anything.

He stops again when he is in front of Victor; the other man, to save the last bits of his sanity, tilts his head upwards and stretches his mouth into a broad smile. "Yuuri, the water feels extraordinarily wonderful today, come sit down here," he says and opens his arm in invitation.

Yuuri responds with a smile of his own, sitting down into the offered space. He sighs and closes his eyes, relaxing his head against Victor's arm. "Yes, it feels great," he says.

Victor is afraid that the thumping of his heart is going to cause a little tsunami in the water, it is beating so wildly against his ribcage. Something has changed since Moscow. Yuuri has changed. 

It started the day before yesterday, when they returned from the airport, both exhausted and weary to death. They dragged themselves to the bathroom, went through the evening routine and retired to sleep. Victor felt a pang of disappointment when Yuuri headed into his room.

"Ah Makka, it seems we're on our own tonight," he sighed, nuzzling his face into the poodle's fur. Makkachin just huffed in response and lied down at the foot of the bed. Victor turned off the light and reclined against his pillows with another forlorn sight. He was kind of expecting something after what had happened at the airport... though he didn't exactly know himself what. However, not a minute passed when the door to his room quietly shifted and in slung a dark figure with a pillow under his arm. "Yuuri?" asked Victor although he knew it was him. Who else would sneak into his room in the middle of the night, shoulders hunched and steps careful? Wordlessly, the younger man slipped under the covers, right into Victor's warm embrace. 

Makkachin left the bed with an annoyed huff, clearly disturbed by the commotion. Her departure went unnoticed amidst the wet sounds of lips meeting and parting, tongues dancing around each other, and quiet panting.

"Yuuri," Victor sighed when they came up for air. Yuuri pushed an arm under his head, looking at Victor with a smile. "I missed you yesterday," he said, his brown eyes twinkling as they caught the moonlight. Victor felt his cheeks heating up; ah yes, things have changed. Victor Nikiforov was blushing like a school-girl just because the man of his dreams said he missed him.

"Me too," he said in a too raspy voice. They kissed again. And again, and again, until their lips grew swollen and tired and finally, sleep surprised them.

The next day was hectic; in the morning, all of their friends made a round in Yuuropia, wanting to congratulate Yuuri. There was a large group of guests dining in the inn early afternoon, so Victor and Yuuri were pulled in by Mari to help out. They managed to snatch some two hours on the ice before they had to go back to the inn to celebrate Yuuri's advance to the GPF. Although Yuuri and Victor had been careful with alcohol, they both were inebriated enough to fall asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

Finally, on the third day, normality reasserted itself. It was the first calm day after Moscow filled by a morning run, morning and afternoon ice time and off ice training. But something changed, and it wasn't only Yuuri sleeping in Victor's bed. While before Yuuri quietly allowed Victor being hands-on and touchy-feely, now he was the one who sought out Victor's proximity and encouraged their touches. When he sat down next to Victor, he took care that their thighs or shoulders were touching; and it wasn't only that. Victor caught Yuuri checking out his behind when he demonstrated a move on the ice. Granted, Yuuri blushed afterwards, masking it with drinking from his bottle, but it was still something new. Victor felt unreasonably giddy afterwards, making sure to arch his spine and stick his butt out as much as possible without making himself fall, so that he could offer an eye-candy to the newly awakened lust of his boyfriend.

*

All this and more goes through Victor's head as he sits with Yuuri in the onsen that evening. Yuuri doesn't initiate anything else; Victor knows about the onsen's policy. Even staring is socially unacceptable... though they are alone in here tonight, so just looking isn't that bad, especially if the other is offering. Probably. Hopefully.

Yuuri yawns and stands up, looking over his shoulder, and winks at Victor. "Come, Victor. I don't want you to get dizzy from the heat again."

Victor, trying to recover from the shock Yuuri's cheeky wink had wreaked upon his insides, pouts: "One time, Yuuri, it was one time!" but stands and follows obediently.

Victor is indeed dizzy, but it isn't from the onsen. They make a short stop in the dining room, where they can hear Mari and Minako discussing the GPF. Victor wants nothing but go upstairs, though Yuuri has obviously other plans, and Victor quietly yields. He is not letting him out of his sight tonight. They sit under the kotatsu and drink a beer with the two women. At some point, when there's not much beer left in the bottles, Yuuri puts a hand on Victor's thigh under the low table and squeezes. Victor thanks the gods that the jinbei he is wearing is relatively loose and longer in the front, or else he would experience a real walk of shame with a boner in front of Yuuri's family.

Finally, they retire. Yuuri is quiet, but has a focused, determined look on his face. They brush teeth in silence; then Yuuri leaves the bathroom. Victor takes longer, of course. He can’t bring himself to leave out any step of his evening routine, but his movements are frantic and hurried.

When he finally enters his bedroom, Yuuri is there, kneeling on the bed, hands on his tights, back straight, gaze trained at the shoji door. Makkachin is not inside, he had probably sneaked off to Mari, the traitor. When Victor enters, Yuuri drags his look to the side, and clears his throat.

Victor feels a bit amused despite the slowly burning arousal; Yuuri clearly has some plans, but he is approaching them obliquely in a typical Yuuri fashion. 

Yuuri hems and haws again; "Anoo... etooo..." he murmurs. Victor approaches the bed and waits patiently. There is a pleasurable buzz in his limbs, his head feels light. It's slow, but things are moving. Yuuri will arrive to the point... hopefully. 

Yuuri fidgets a bit; he takes down his glasses and stretches to place them on the bedside. Victor uses the distraction to climb on the bed, positioning himself behind Yuuri. He slings his arms around his waist in a lose embrace and props his chin on Yuuri's shoulder.

Yuuri's breath hitches as he straightens up again, hands back on his thighs, back stiff. "Victor, I..."

Nowhere is the confident man from the onsen. Victor tilts his head and kisses Yuuri behind his ear, just where the jaw meets the skull. Yuuri shivers and breathes, "Touch me."

Victors limbs jolt and tightens his embrace around Yuuri's middle. Ah, there it is. He wonders whether he misheard for a second when Yuuri remains stiff, but then his back melts into Victor's front; Yuuri turns his head towards Victor and repeats into the other man's mouth: "Victor, touch me."

They kiss; it's sloppy and filthy, tongues leaving wet trails of saliva on their chin and cheeks. Victor's hands slide under Yuuri's shirt and up his chest. Yuuri's nipples are already pebbled, fitting neatly between Victor's thumb and index finger. He squeezes the hard nubs, then rolls them under his palms; Yuuri lets out a quiet whimper. He is shivering, and Victor's body responds in kind.

Victor's mouth latches on the relief of Yuuri's collar bone, sharp and hard under the thin layer of soft skin. He lets his gaze wander downwards. Yuuri has no underwear under his sweatpants; Victor knows because he watched him pull the pliant fabric directly over the firm globes of his ass after the onsen. It was driving him mad for the whole time they spent talking to Yuuri's sister and Minako, not knowing whether it was just a coincidence or a deliberate action on Yuuri's side. 

But now, a half-formed thought flickers through the haze of his mind: Yuuri must have planned this for a while. This was not just in the spur of the moment, that wouldn't be Yuuri. No, he must have thought about it for a while now.

"Yuuri," Victor whispers, letting his hot breath waft over the delicate skin on Yuuri's neck. It has an immediate effect; tiny goosebumps sprout all over Yuuri's neck and Yuuri's hips involuntarily buck forward; there is a bulge growing in the front of his pants. "Yuuri, where else?"

Victor slides his hands downward, over the twitching muscles of Yuuri's belly; he stops them just above the waistband, skirting them lightly across the sensitive skin and dipping the tips of his fingers behind the elastic band. "Here?" he asks.

Yuuri pants. "Hai." Then, "Yes. Vic...Vitya," he half breathes, half whimpers, pushing his face into Victor's cheek. His lips move on Victor's skin until they catch the corner of his mouth. "Please," he breathes.

Victor moans, turns his head to return the fumbling kiss. He dips both his hands behind the elastic band. All of his senses are hyper-aware; his ears catch every little noise that leaves Yuuri's mouth: moans, half finished words, whimpers, cute little grunts. He can smell the minerals of the onsen's water on Yuuri's skin that blend with Yuuri's unique smell Victor had come to know so well in the recent weeks; he can even smell Yuuri's arousal, something more heavy and musky. It saturates even Yuuri's perspiration and Victor can taste it in the slightly salty sheen of sweat that he licks from the side of Yuuri's neck.

Victor's hands continue their journey south; he slips his hands into the nest of hair that feels coarser under his fingers than the hair on Yuuri's head. His fingers weave through it until they meet in the middle and close above the stiff shaft. Yuuri's dick is hard; Victor can see the tip of it peeking from behind the band of his pants. A flick of a wrist, and the pants slide down, freeing the whole of his erection. Yuuri jolts a bit; no longer constricted by the fabric, his cock points proudly and erect upwards and away from Yuuri's trembling body. "Ah," Yuuri moans, bracing his head on Victor's shoulder. 

Victor can't tear his gaze away from Yuuri's erection. When soft, Yuuri is slightly on the smaller side; which is alright, Victor guesses. As far as he can tell after his limited experience in the onsen, Yuuri is fairly average in regards to the other guests. But aroused, Victor realizes Yuuri is almost his size. Talk about nice surprises. 

Victor shivers in vague anticipation. He moves his hands; one of them pulls Yuuri's sweats downwards, over the curve of his ass as Yuuri lifts his hips a bit to help the movement; Victor's other hand closes around Yuuri's dick. It fits perfectly into Victor's grip, warm and heavy on Victor's palm, the skin smooth, with veins swollen with the surge of of blood. "Yuuri," Victor whispers and the name feels like a mantra on Victor's heavy tongue. "Yuuri."

Victor's skin feels like on fire, like a spring wound too tight; his pants feel too constricting, his erection almost painful as it strains against the unforgiving fabric. Victor tries to ignore the urge to push his hips against the swell of Yuuri's behind; this is about Yuuri, not about Victor. He can't do anything to distract him. He will deal with himself later.

Victor gives Yuuri a couple of slow pumps, watching like a hawk the skin detract and glide back over the darker, bulbous head. His chin is digging into Yuuri's right shoulder and he is probably drooling on his skin, but he is in no state to close his mouth. Victor watches Yuuri in fascination. With each returning pump, Yuuri's thrusts his hips a bit forward and lets out a little whimper. Victor's other hand slides under Yuuri's shirt again, to the neglected nipples, and he rolls them between his fingers as he speeds up the movements of his other arm.

Yuuri is like a flower, opening and blossoming under his ministrations. He rolls his head back on Victor's left shoulder, moans spilling from his mouth and increasing in volume. They are still quiet, but now they have a voice where before there was mostly only harsh breathing. Victor never asked outright, only suspected: Yuuri's inexperience manifested itself in the smallest ways. His hesitations or outright reluctance to experience anything sexual with Victor, flashes of panic when he overcame them; and now the reaction of his body. How he shudders and shakes under Victor's touch. It reminds Victor of his 16 years old self, touched for the first time by a hand other than his own. 

Victor tightens his grip and tries to twist his hand slightly, trapping the dry skin under his palms. Ah, this won't do, thinks Victor. He abandons Yuuri's chest and halts his other hand, closing his fist around the cock to secure his grip as he reaches to his bedside table, bending Yuuri forward with him.

He hears Yuuri utter a noise of surprise. "Just a second," Victor whispers and licks Yuuri's earlobe, eliciting a surprised squeak from the other man. Thanks gods for his long arms; he quickly pulls open the drawer and after a short fumble his fingers find the tube he is looking for. He straightens. "Lube," he says.

He glimpses a flash of panic in Yuuri's questioning look from the corner of his eyes. "To ease the friction. It will feel better with lube."

"Okay." Yuuri's voice is timid, trusting, and it does things to Victor. He makes a short work of it; soon Victor's palm and Yuuri's dick glisten with the slick substance and Victor's fingers move up with a new sensation of touch. His grip is tight as he pumps Yuuri in a measured pace. He bites into the skin on Yuuri's neck, sucking on the delicate skin, low enough so his costume would cover the mark. 

The room is filled with wet slaps of skin on skin; Victor can almost picture Yuuri scrunching his nose in dislike, and sure enough, there it is when Victor lifts his head from the blossoming bruise and takes a look at Yuuri's face.

Victor laughs. "Shut up," says Yuuri breathily, a smile jerking the corner of his mouth upward. Victor giggles. 

"Oh... oh... Victor, stop laughing, hah... you're distracting me," Yuuri says, eyes squeezed closed. He is smiling.

Victor tuts. "I am distracting you? Who is doing the whole work here, hm?" he asks, giving Yuuri's cock a twist and the other man's breath hitches: "Vic..."

"Nah," Victor breathes. "Your cock isn't distracted, seems all right to me" he says. Yuuri is still rock hard. 

"You're...ah... impo... hah... impossible," Yuuri mumbles. A bead of pre-cum appears on the head; Victor wants to lap it up. Next time. 

He speeds up a bit, keeping his gaze on his rapidly moving hand. Yuri's dick is perfect; Victor likes its shape when it's soft, and he loves it when it's hard; he loves how it feels in his hand; he loves the slight curve upwards. The foreskin is completely retracted, exposing the distinctly curved glans with the glistening slit leaking the whitish beads now almost continuously. There is a prominent ridge under the head; Victor can feel it under his fingertips, heralding future promises of more intimate encounters. 

Victor increases the pressure of his fingers as he moves over it; Yuuri shudders. He lifts one of his arms upwards, gripping with the other the fabric on Victor's thighs. Yuuri is nearing climax, Victor realizes; he is lifting his hips more and more, until he isn't reclining on his heels but is on his knees, Victor following behind. Yuuri's hips are thrust forward, spine arched backwards, his shoulders braced against Victor's pectorals. Yuuri's head pushes against Victor's shoulder. He is holding Victor's neck with both of his hands now, moaning with each exhale.

"Yuuri, Yuuri, let go," whispers Victor, peppering his cheeks with open mouthed kisses.

"Ah... Vitya... 'm al-most," Yuuri pants incoherently. "Hah... hah..."

Then Yuuri stiffens; his body draws taut like a bowstring; his shoulder-blades push against Victor. He turns his heads against Victor's neck, mouth open in a silent scream. His whole body shudders with throes of pleasure as he comes into Victor's hand. Victor can feel the warm seed trickle down his knuckles and he just manages to put forward his other hand to prevent it dripping on the bed-sheets. Yuuri would be annoyed if he messed up the linen.

Then it's over; Yuuri's body goes slack against him, his head lolls lazily to the side on Victor's shoulder, and they sink down on their heels again. Yuuri's body is shivering with the aftershocks and he is breathing harshly. His hands flop uselessly down the sides of his body, unmoving. Victor is still cupping his slowly softening cock in his palms, now full of come. It radiates moist warmth.

"Yuuri, Yuuri," Victor says, trying to maneuver Yuuri's boneless torso so that he can do the necessary clean-up. "I need the napkins," he says. 

"Hm?" Yuuri hums, refusing to cooperate. His eyes are closed and there's a dopey smile on his lips.

"I need to clean up your cum, otherwise it will make a mess. You will thank me later."

"Mmmh," agrees Yuuri and makes a minimal effort to flop down sideways on the bed. Victor shivers as Yuuri's cock slides out of his hands. They feel suddenly useless and empty.

He makes quick work with the napkins that sit just in reach on the bedside table, then cleans his hands more thoroughly with wet wipes which he fishes out of the drawer. He pushes back the embarrassment about why he had both lube and wet napkins just at his hand next to his bed.

When he turns back to Yuuri, his breath hitches. Yuuri is reclining against the pillows, eyes closed. His hands are by his sides; he is lying exactly as he slid down, one knee bent under him, the other hanging from the side of the bed; his shirt is tucked up, exposing his navel, and his sweats are still half down his thighs. His cock is soft, rolled to the side, the now covered tip kissing his left hip-bone; he is completely shameless in his laziness, oblivious of, or just comfortable with, Victor ogling him with a hungry look. His lips are open, his cheeks dusted with a deep blush; his skin is glowing. Ah, Victor thinks, this is why they call it afterglow. Yuuri is beautiful and ethereal in his post-orgasmic bliss.

Victor's must have let out some sound, as Yuuri suddenly cracks open his eyes and looks at Victor from under his lashes. Victor's own neglected cock jumps in his pants, reminding him of his yet unresolved state. 

But it seems that Yuuri's addled mind slowly surfaces to consciousness; his cheeks darken even more with embarrassment when he notices Victor's eyes at him; he sits up and fumbles to pull up his pants. Victor stops him. "Wait, Yuuri," he exclaims as he gets hold of his hands. "Clean up first."

Yuri sucks in breath; he snatches the offered wet-wipe from Victors hand and makes a quick work of wiping down his shaft and balls, then tucks himself quickly back into his pants. Finally, he lifts his head, clutching the used wipe in his hands, looking lost. Ah, the shy Yuuri is back, thinks Victor. He liberates Yuuri of the soiled wipe and leans forward, kissing the tip of his nose.

"So, how was is? Was it good?"

Yuuri nods. "Victor, of course it was," he says and pauses, "good, I mean... " he fidgets, then leans forward and presses his mouth to Victor's. The kiss is slow, sensual more than sexual, their tongues intertwining and sliding in and out of each other's mouth with a new found intimacy. Yuuri's hand finds its way behind Victor's nape, pulling him forward. Victor first raises up to his knees, then climbs forward and over Yuuri, who reclines on the bed again.

Victor puts his knee between Yuuri's legs, almost to that place where just a while ago he satisfied Yuuri. He lowers himself carefully over the other man, framing his torso with his elbows. Yuuri's other hand slides down his back and down to his ass; he pulls and Victor's hips connect with Yuuri's body.

There is a double hitch; Victor is reminded of his still raging boner and Yuuri is made aware if it. His's pupil's dilate. "Victor..." 

**Author's Note:**

> (to be continued...we can't let Victor have blue balls :D)
> 
>  
> 
> I've realized I'm a sucker for first times - so I'm starting a new series of oneshots/two-chapter fics of their firsts. It will be explicit, but there'll be humor as well. Enjoy this is completely self-indulgent and gratuitous smut & fluff & more...


End file.
